6. August
6
I splashed cold water on my face and rinsed my eyes, shaking my head before taking a good long look in the mirror. I was definitely awake and alert.
I took a breath before marching back out into my living room.
Yep. Still here.
Harper Maxwell was indeed spread across my sofa, wearing my clothes. And asleep. Her wavy blonde hair scattered over a navy blue pillow and the only thing crossing my mind at that moment was whether it was soft enough for her head. Not what on earth she was doing here . Curled up on her side, with my cell phone on the floor next to her.
What in the actual—?
A familiar alarm went off and my phone started buzzing around the hardwood floor, waking sleeping beauty.
Harper sprang to a ninety-degree angle, scanning her surroundings and yelped when she found me leaning an elbow against my kitchen counter, watching her.
“Good heavens,” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “So creepy.”
I blinked as no better response came to mind.
She shoved aside the throw blanket and pushed herself up. “Sorry…you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
I breathed an internal sigh of relief that I wasn’t crazy. That I hadn’t hit my head recently, blacking out the part where I’d invited Harper into my apartment. Whatever the hell she was doing here, I needed to snap out of it and focus because Harper began rambling a mile a minute.
“I locked myself out of my car when I walked you to your building last night and the doorman couldn’t help me and my clothes were soaked and well…you did offer a clean shirt, so…”
I held up my hand. “Hold it.” She blinked repeatedly, but at least the rambling stopped. “What are you talking about? What happened last night?”
“Oh—oh um.” She licked her lips in hesitation. “You don’t remember, then that makes this super awkward.”
My eyes trailed to the ceiling as though I could see through to the floor above me. I had the feeling Troy had something to do with this.
“Just tell me what you’re doing here, Harper,” I barked. It wasn’t meant to come out so harshly, it was more gravitated toward the brother I needed to go see asap.
“Stop yelling at me like I’m trespassing. You’re the one who stormed into my job yesterday demanding to see who wrote that article.”
My jaw locked and I looked down, calming and also preparing myself. “I'm sorry. What else did I do?”
“You were drunk and almost got yourself arrested. I tried to get you to leave but ended up hauling you back here.”
“Here?”
“Well, no. I asked your doorman to take you up. But I locked my keys in my car and couldn’t get anyone to come out to help after hours.”
I scanned her in my clothes again. Hating how much I liked it. I shut my eyes so I could try and focus. Because I was picturing her undressing from the wet clothes that were currently laid over the bar chairs, still damp. Sneaking into my bedroom, going through my dresser. Christ, how did I not hear her?
“It poured last night, didn’t it?” My voice was hoarse.
“I was cold.”
I turned, striding to my thermostat, raising it a few levels. When I looked back, Harper’s eyes were on my shirtless torso and she swallowed, blinking away.
“That’s okay, I think my clothes are dry, I’ll just—” She reached for them, but I tore them off the chair before she could get to it.
“How drunk was I?”
She took a minute, her eyes finally leveling mine. “I think you need a mental break, Troy.”
My teeth clenched. There was no reason for me not to tell her that I wasn’t my brother. None. She obviously wasn’t out to hurt him; she took care of him last night and seemed genuinely concerned.
That was the Harper I knew. Not sure who the woman I met Saturday night was. We both turned at the sound of my coffee maker starting, which I had set to a seven-fifteen timer every weekday morning.
“These are still wet. I’ll throw them in the dryer.”
“But—”
“Stay put.” I left Harper in my living room and tossed her clothes in my dryer, adding a freshener sheet.
She hadn’t moved when I got back. “Coffee?”
“Oh no, I’ve got enough of that at work.” She took a seat at the counter and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms as she waited.
“Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to check something.”
“Of course,” she answered curtly. Though I sensed hesitation, so I knew I needed to make my visit upstairs quick.
I threw on a t-shirt and marched up the stairs just outside the hall. Unlocking his door, I stepped in and shouted. “Troy.”
Nothing.
I went to his bedroom and sure enough, he was passed out on his bed.
“Not again,” I muttered. “Come on buddy,” I stalked over and shook him. “Troy. Up.”
He groaned. “Hey.”
“I’m going to say this once. I didn’t cover for your ass this weekend so that you can go get yourself into trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, where did you go?”
My brother frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Umm…”
“Were you with Harper?” I didn’t want to mention her name but since I planned on telling her the truth, I needed him to know.
“Shit. Yeah. Harper—why was I with her?”
“You tell me.” My voice was menacing at this point. The tone I used with some of the people on my team when they screwed up a transaction.
Troy spilled out the events of last night—in pieces that wouldn’t have added up unless I heard it from Harper first. “Well, you’re lucky,” I muttered.
“How’d you know?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just clean yourself up. You’ve got a game tonight and I need to get to work.”
His face went white. “A game? I can’t play tonight. If I screw up…”
“You really think they’ll let you on the ice with the way you look? You’ll probably get some shit from your coach, but no one’s letting you play.”
His foggy eyes brightened. “Great, then you can wear one of your fancy suits and stay in the press box, August. Come on, I’m—”
“This is your life,” I snapped. “And in case you’d forgotten, I have a job.”
Troy stepped back, swiping a hand across his mouth and nodding. “Fine. Fine. I’ll get cleaned up.” He started for the bathroom then turned back with a frown. “How’d you know about Harper?”
I couldn’t pinpoint why, but I didn’t exactly want to share the fact that Harper ended up on my couch last night—curled up in my clothes, which were granted massive over her slender frame, but unbelievably alluring.
Harper was a secret I felt like keeping all to myself.
“I ran into her. I’ve got to get to work. Good luck at the game.”
Troy kept a hand on the doorframe of his master bathroom and didn’t move. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I just…I felt like I hit a wall after that game and it knocked me out cold. And now…it’s like I can’t seem to get up, you know?”
My jaw hardened. It wasn’t the reaction someone should have when hearing their only sibling in such distress. But he shouldn’t have been my responsibility.
I handed this man my life two years ago at St. Francis College when scouts came and I put on his jersey. A life that he swore was all he needed not to fall off the wagon. It was a no brainer the way he saw it.
If August Hartman doesn’t show up, but Troy plays the game of the year, then I wouldn’t have to choose between hockey and finance.
He was right. I didn’t need it.
Not as much as he did.
And now I was here dragging him off the floor again.
I forced my usual hard expression to relax. “I know. And I know the press isn’t helping. But this is not a way to prove them wrong, Troy.”
His eyes leveled mine. “You think they’re wrong?”
No . But I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that.
Sophomore Slump was not only spot on for Troy, but it was also the way he played. It was effortless, and not in the best of ways. The guy had the weight behind him, he had the basics and the practice. But his passion wasn’t for the sport.
It was all for the attention. The fame, the cheers, the girls. When you’re centered on all that, you lose focus, patience, timing—all things you need during a game.
“I don’t know,” I answered when I had nothing better to say.
Unfortunately, Troy knew me better than that. He punched the door and screamed, half in pain and half in anger.
And I did something I hadn’t done in years. I reached for his head, gripping it between my palms and holding it firmly until he relented. “Look at me,” I urged.
Eyes that didn’t quite match my own looked up at me hesitantly. The redness and dark circles surrounding them didn’t surprise me. It should have hurt to see him like this, but it only made my chest burn with anger and regret.
This is my fault .
“I didn’t give you everything so you could blow it all up because of insecurity. You had one bad game. It happens. Do what everyone else does. Shake it the fuck off and get back on the ice.”
“I’m not good,” he whispered, his voice shaking with shame or fear.
My next words seemed like they were spoken for me. By someone I swore I’d never be again. “I’ll help you.”
Hopeful green eyes looked back at me. I held them and he nodded as I released him.
I waited a few minutes before leaving to ensure he was okay and didn’t go reaching for a drink. “So, that article, you think it was Harper?” I asked against my better judgement.
Troy wiped his washed face with a towel and tossed it aside. “What? No. Harper works at the Lineup, but at the café in the lobby,” he scoffed. “Harper’s no reporter.”
Terrific. Now I felt like a bigger jerk for snapping at her the other day—and perhaps now owed her the apology.
I went back downstairs, knowing Harper had likely left by this point. I needed to get to the office. My first meeting was scheduled for nine o’clock with a wealthy new potential client and I was already going to have to ask my assistant to move it.
I wasn’t surprised to find my clothes neatly folded on the sofa and Harper gone.